Tag Archives: boys

Truths We’re Told

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I’m not sure I can add much to what Nathalie and Beth-Anne have already so eloquently said on this topic.   I will let the other mothers’ writing stand on its own, but I share the sentiment already expressed that entitlement is an unattractive quality, in both children and adults.

I want my boys to grow up to be modest, unassuming, deservedly proud of what they accomplish, without any inflated sense of self-worth, confident but not cocky, and above all, I want them to be grateful for the opportunities they’ve had, and to show that gratitude appropriately. And because I was raised to show appropriate gratitude, I have to give the credit to those people whose words helped shape me, and whose values I want to pass along to my own children:

From my grandfather: “Don’t show off who you are.” In other words, be modest. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself. You gain nothing from it. (Clearly, my grandfather could not have anticipated You Tube, but I digress…)

From my mom’s cousin: “When you’re famous, don’t forget who you come from”, an admonition that also took the form of, “Don’t think we’ll be afraid to knock you down a peg if you get too high and mighty”. I may not be famous, but when I’ve caught myself thinking too highly of myself, these words come back to me.

From my Dad: “You’ve got to make luck to be lucky”. What people think of as “luck” is really the pay-off of hard work.

From my Mom: “You can do anything you set your mind to! Well….except ballet. Honestly Marcelle, you’re not going to be a prima ballerina. You’re too tall and your feet don’t arch.  You don’t have to like it, but it’s the way it is. You DO need to practice your violin ….” Not everyone can do everything. Find what you CAN do, and do it the best you can.

Is there a home-grown truth about how to be that you carry with you? I often wonder which of my frequent platitudes will stay with my own children long after I’m no longer there to utter them.  Whatever it is, I hope they take it to heart.

You Were a Kid Once Too

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Last month I wrote about toilet training my 2 year old.  I have decided to adopt Carol’s attitude and allow myself to follow his lead.  Some days we cruise through the day with barely an accident and other days I am cleaning up poo that has been tracked through the house.  It’s a process.

Recently I took the boys to their favourite store and with money in hand they agonized over their selections.

My eyes were drawn to my four year old.  One leg was crossed over the other.  Then the leg from behind wrapped around the leg in front.

Forget any seasoned parent, an amateur babysitter would be able to tell you that this boy had to pee.  And if experience has taught me anything it’s this:  when kids say that they have to pee now they mean NOW.

The bunch of us hurried over to the nearest sales person and in my sweetest voice asked if we could use the washroom as it was an emergency.

“The washroom is for employees only!” the surly woman snarled at me.

“I completely understand your policy but it’s not for me, it’s my son.  It really is an emergency.”  I pleaded with her, motioning toward to son.  I could tell from the frequency of the legs folding over each other that we had seconds to spare.

“Employees only!” She hissed at me and went back to stocking the shelves.

I wanted to snap back at her, remind her that she was a child once too, tell her that karma is a bitch.

An older man standing behind me gave me a look of sympathy and validated my irritation by saying aloud that this was ridiculous.

Instead, I took a deep breath and walked with my boys out of the store where upon my son just could not hold it a moment longer.

I shrugged my shoulders and through the closed door the older man gave me a thumbs up.

 

image courtesy of: www.funnysigns.net

Curing the Nature Deficit

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July 1, 2012: Milkman’s Lane, Yellow Creek Ravine, Mud Creek Ravine, Don Valley Brickworks.

In his book Accidental City, Robert Fulford wrote about Toronto’s ravines:

The ravines are to Toronto what canals are to Venice and hills are to San Francisco. They are the heart of the city’s emotional geography, and understanding Toronto requires an understanding of the ravines.

If you’re not familiar with Toronto’s ravine system, I recommend the blog, Toronto Ravines and Trails with Abbey. It’s the personal blog of a Toronto father who has chronicled his adventures exploring Toronto’s ravines with his five-year old daughter.  Of course, if you have a literary bent, there’s always Margaret Atwood‘s Cat’s Eye to read,  in which Toronto’s ravines figure prominently.

Walking in Toronto’s ravines has become a Canada Day ritual for us, those years when we can’t get out of the city (read: most years). There is nothing like an amble along a sun-dappled trail to get the imagination flowing. Not five steps on to Milkman’s Lane, and the boys had launched into a new game of their own devising, which continued, unabated, until they finally stopped to smell (or water) the roses at the Evergreen Brickworks, our destination of the day:

P.S.: We’re wishing our American readers, family and friends a very happy, relaxing and restorative Fourth of July.  Whether you spend the day in a ravine, at a beach, at a barbeque or just in the company of people you love, we hope today is a good one.

Happy Father’s Day, Peter!

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Photo credit: Marcelle Cerny, 2012

Happy father’s day, Peter! I think you know this already, but you have two boys who absolutely adore you.

I should tell you, though: one of them wants you to shave more often.

Here’s  what D (age 9) and S (age 7) had to say. Thanks again to Defining Motherhood for the idea. 

What is daddy made of?

D: Daddy is made of kindness, caring, and responsibility.

S: Hmm. Love, and water.

What kind of little boy was daddy?

D: A fun, cheerful boy. 

S: A nice little boy.

What did Daddy need to know about mommy before he married her?

D: That you’re really kind.

S: How beautiful you were.

[Ed note: Whose idea was it to include this question? It's brilliant!]

Why did daddy marry mommy?

 D: He loved you a lot, and he knew that you were a big part of his life.

S: Because you looked beautiful.

Who’s the boss at our house?

D: I think being the boss is equally shared between mommy and daddy.

S: Both of you.

What’s the difference between moms and dads?

D: Well, they’re opposite genders….and one gave birth to me, while the other helped.

S: Moms can give birth to babies, and Dads can’t.

What does daddy do in his spare time?

 D: He reads. A lot!

S: He plays with me! And he loves me.

What would it take to make daddy perfect?

D: Nothing. Daddy’s already perfect.

S: A hug and a kiss from me!

If you could change one thing about daddy, what would it be?

D: Maybe I could make it so that Daddy could bend time, so that we could spend more time together.

S: His beard!

M (confused): Why? Daddy doesn’t have a beard.

S: Yes he does. And it’s hairy!

If daddy was a superhero/movie character/book character, which one would he be?

D: Mr. Fantastic. He’s already stretching every day.

S: Captain America! ‘Cause he’s got the same beard as him.

Me (confused again): But, Captain America doesn’t have a beard either.

S: Oh yes he does. It’s EXACTLY the same as Daddy’s.

What should we celebrate about your Dad on father’s day?

D: His kindness and his love for his family.

S: How good he is of a Dad. How well he gives hugs and kisses!

What’s your favourite thing about your Dad?
D: Everything!

S: That he plays football and baseball with me!

Who’s Your Daddy?

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With Father’s Day fast approaching, we’re going to pass the reins over to our kids this week. Inspired by this post over at Defining Motherhood, we’re asking our boys for their perspective on their fathers.

Who are they? What do they like? What exactly do the 4Dads do all day?  Join us this week as we interview our boys about their dads: we’re just as curious as you are about what we’ll discover!

Friday Fun: Caine’s Arcade

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Have you seen this yet? Nine year old Caine Monroy spent last summer built a fully-functioning cardboard arcade inside his father’s autobody shop in Los Angeles, California. In October of last year, a whole bunch of new friends showed up to play:

Go Caine! Kudos to filmmaker Nirvan Mullick, too. “I felt proud”, indeed.

The Pursuit of Happiness?

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I seem to find advice on how to be happy everywhere I turn.  Magazines have entire monthly columns dedicated to attaining it and numerous blogs tout the pursuit of it.

For me, the pressure to be happy can be crushing and there are times, more than I would care to admit, that “be happy” is just one more line item for supermom to check off.  There it looms on the list: above “nutritious short order cook” and below “sultry sexpot”.

Being a mother has proved to be my life riddle.  One that I am struggling to figure out.

How is it that I feel so utterly lonely but at the same time crave solitude?

Why do I want time apart from my kids but once I am alone, I count the hours to when they return?

At the end of the day, I beat myself up and wonder what is that I accomplished today?  What use did I make of my two university degrees?

At the end of the day, I am amazed by the magnitude of what I have contributed to our society: three small boys, who are learning to be thoughtful, compassionate members of the community.

There are days when I am deliriously happy and days that I feel as though I am clawing my way out of a black hole.

Today I didn’t feel happiness.  I felt claustrophobic, torn apart, pushed beyond the limit of exhaustion.  As I write this, the boys are tucked into bed and not a minute too soon.  My patience now sags like a hyper extended elastic band.

Hard days come with the mothering territory and when I feel less than sure, it’s not to the experts that I turn.  I seek solace from those elbow to elbow with me in the trenches and Glennon Melton’s Don’t Carpe Diem tops my list.

Am I happy every day?  No.  Am I happy most days?  Yes, and that’s good enough for me.

Life’s not a glossy magazine, folks.  If it were, I’d have better hair.

 

photo credit: http://www.symbolset.org

Caecillius est in horto. Mater non est compos mentis.

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What does it say about your child when he, having grown weary of the old-school teaching style of his Mandarin teacher (Mandarin being a required subject at his school as part of the TDSB’s integrated International Languages program), decides to try to convince his parents to write to the school excusing him from further Mandarin lessons, such a concession by the school to be made possible on promise that his mother will home-school him in her free time in another language of his request? And he continues this campaign for a couple of days straight?

And what if his language of choice is Latin?

Despite his pleas, and much to his chagrin, eldest child has not been excused from ongoing attendance in Mandarin class. He is now, however, the possessor of the first four chapters of  Latin for Children, which he shall start working through over the March Break.

All of this is to say: be careful what you wish for, especially when – surprise! – your mother studied Latin in high school.  You never know when a request like this might bite you in the nates.

May I have some more, please?

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Here’s one of the things that has always worried me about having two boys: that one day, I might have to get a second job to keep us all in groceries. It happens to all of them, doesn’t it? One day they start eating, and a week later they’ve grown a foot taller, and they just keep eating constantly until they’re 25 and hopefully by then they’re buying their own food or at least bringing home dinner every now again but in the meantime you’ve wasted away because you continue to buy one pork chop too few, and you’re not going to deprive your growing boys, are you?

Tonight, they plowed through two packages of Italian sausage, an entire head of broccoli, and two servings each of these potatoes. Usually, we only make one package of sausage, and there are always left over broccoli bits or potatoes. It makes me wonder whether we’ve been starving them all these years. They’ve never been huge eaters — grazers, more likely — but have they been eating only half a sausage each all this time out of politeness? Has the sudden abundance of food made them reckless? I’m not sure what’s going on.

(Photo courtesty of Flickr Creative Commons/stu_spivack)

I do know this: the shoes we bought Sebastian at the beginning of January are already too small — and we had sized up a half-size larger than he’d been wearing so that he’d have room to grow. Daniel’s pants are all too short. They can’t keep their eyes open past 8:30. It might be too soon for a declaration, but I sense a trend: my bird-like grazers are on a growth spurt and appear to have turned into fully fledged eaters.  Send help. And more broccoli.

 

Disney Daze

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We’ve just come back from several enjoyable and unforgettable days in Florida. Each time I travel with my family, I learn something new about them. Traveling, even somewhere as relatively mundane as Florida, pushes out the walls of your comfort zone — and as Oprah-ish as that might sound, I think it’s a good thing for all of us to have our boundaries pushed at a little. My own boys seem each to be a year older and six inches taller today, and I swear that’s a by-product of being somewhere other than home for eight days.

Travel also reminds you of things you already knew, but probably have forgotten. To wit:

1. No matter how obedient your children might be, there will be moments when corrective action need be taken to keep their behaviour in check:

2. Not only are my boys friends, they are also best friends. Sometimes, they even act as if they are:

3. Theme parks are loud, crowded, and boisterous. They can be incredibly fun places if one is in the right frame of mind to be jostled, well prepared for the crowds, armed with a touring plan (we really liked this website, for that) and armed with a sense of humour and a large packet of patience.

Wine helps, too. Especially when you can sip that glass of wine anywhere in the park:

4.  I’m convinced that there exists over Disney’s Magic Kingdom theme park an invisible bubble, which keeps in all the fairy dust, happy, scented air and whatever else it is they spread around there that makes it virtually impossible to be angry or grumpy at anyone for the entire duration of your stay. About ten minutes after you leave, you will find yourself doubly confused, both by the sudden return of your cynicism about all things Disney, as well as by the gaping hole in your wallet where your money once was.

5.    Every now and again, it’s okay to get a little Goofy:

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